


it might be your wound, but they're my sutures

by reachedthebitterend



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alex and Michael are Soulmates but they're IDIOTS, And All That's Inbetween, Angst, Blood and Injury, Fluff, M/M, Mostly Canon Compliant, Not Too Graphic Depictions of Wounds, Other Relationships (Mostly Mentioned), Platonic Soulmates Rosa and Liz-Mostly Mentioned, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26654413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reachedthebitterend/pseuds/reachedthebitterend
Summary: soulmate au where only your soulmate can heal your wounds, the longer you wait, the more likely the injury will leave a permanent mark
Relationships: Michael Guerin & Alex Manes, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 26
Kudos: 262





	it might be your wound, but they're my sutures

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BeStillMySlashyHeart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeStillMySlashyHeart/gifts).



> i have a weakness for soulmate aus, sue me, i tagged everything that i could think off, but please let me know if there is something else i should tag

**one.**

Michael pulls away from Alex, sitting up and curling around his hand, the movement making the truck shake. He breathes through the pain, eyes falling shut as the pain flashing bright and hot, radiating up and down his arm.

He feels Alex sitting up beside him, can hear him speaking in a low soothing voice, but he can’t really make out the words that he’s using.

Alex’s hand settles down on his shoulder, and Michael flinches a little, even though they had been making out a few seconds ago.

Alex drops his hand down, and Michael just takes several deep breaths before he straightens up, and looks at Alex, trying to brush it off.

“It still hasn’t healed,” Alex states before Michael can say anything, something accusing in his tone.

Michael licks his lips and tries really hard not to sigh, “I know.”

“Do you think-?” Alex starts slowly, voice hesitant.

“No,” Michael says before Alex can finish, already knowing what he’s going to say.

Alex huffs out an irritated breath and looks away from Michael.

After a long pause, where Michael thinks about asking Alex if he wants to go, Alex speaks up again.

“Is it Max?” he asks, and Michael gives him an incredulous look.

“What? No,” he says, infusing as much disgust as he can into his tone.

Alex gives him a look, “It’s a reasonable guess. You were attached at the hip until graduation, and now you barely even talk.”

Michael shakes his head, looking away from Alex before he turns back to him, “It’s not Max.”

Alex inhales sharply, and he just stares at Michael, eyes wide and bright and Michael can’t find it in himself to look away.

“Why won’t you let me try?” Alex asks bluntly, managing to sound hurt and confused. 

Michael looks away then because if he doesn't, he'll speak and ruin everything and then Alex will refuse to even talk to him ever again.

Every time that Alex has asked the question, Michael has made an excuse not to really answer it.

He is terrified that Alex might be his soulmate. He's also equally terrified that he might not be.

Alex is the first person to ever make Michael feel like the human race as a whole wasn't completely hopeless. 

If there is someone out there who will make him feel more than Alex does, he doesn't ever want to meet them.

And if Alex is his soulmate, then Michael really doesn't know where they're gonna go from here, when it seems like every time he tries to fix something, he just ends up breaking it even more.

He did it with Max and Isobel, and he has no doubt it's going to be the same with Alex.

"Guerin," Alex says, voice soft, but demanding. Michael is completely helpless against it.

Michael inhales deeply, and turns back to look at Alex.

"What's the worst that can happen?" Alex asks, making an attempt to sound reasonable.

"It could not work," Michael says before he can stop himself.

Alex tilts his head and looks at Michael for a long moment.

"Then at least we'd know," Alex says, but there is a determined spark in his eyes, and he's staring at Michael like he knows that it's going to work.

Michael doesn't know if that's more terrifying or less.

Alex reaches for his hand, and this time Michael doesn't try to stop him.

Alex very carefully unwraps Michael's hand from his makeshift cast and splint, and even though Michael tries to stay completely still, his hand still throbs red and hot, even more so when exposed to the air.

Alex makes a low noise at the back of his throat, almost like a sob, and his head is bowed low.

Alex cradles his hand in between both of his and Michael’s breath hitches when he feels the way his touch soothes away the worst of the stinging pain in his hand.

He stares at Alex, feeling like there’s something sharp and painful caught in the back of his throat as Alex bends lower and presses his mouth to the back of Michael’s hand.

Michael’s eyes fall shut as a warmth spreads across his entire hand, almost like Michael had dipped his hand into a warm and soothing bath.

The warmth heats up, until it gets to the point where it’s almost unbearable, and then it stops, a tingling sensation spreading throughout his hand, almost like it had fallen asleep.

Michael flexes his fingers in Alex’s hands, and it doesn’t hurt, even though his fingers do feel a little stiff, and as he clenches his hand into a fist, he can feel the way the scars pull across the back of his hand.

He feels Alex press another kiss to the back of his hand, and when Alex pulls away, straightening up, and looks at Michael, Michael can see the tears staining his cheeks.

He lifts his left hand to Alex’s face, and brushes his fingers across his cheek before cupping his jaw and pulling him in close.

Alex leans the rest of the way in, and presses their mouths together, a little too hard and slightly off center, but Michael doesn’t really care.

He lifts his other hand framing Alex’s face, and he keeps him still as he slides their mouths together and kisses Alex properly.

Alex makes a soft muffled sound against his mouth as Michael digs his fingers into the back of his neck keeping him close as he lies back down.

**two.**

Isobel leans back against her car and pulls her phone out of her pocket, pulling up Michael’s information and calling him immediately.

His phone goes directly to voicemail which means it’s off.

She lets out a frustrated breath and looks around, spotting his truck parked over by the broken down school bus. 

He was the one who had told her to come today so that he could look at her car. It wasn’t like this  _ wasn’t _ an excuse just to spend some time with him, but still, the least he could do is actually be awake.

She pushes away from her car and walks over to the Airstream, her boots making crunching noises on the dirt and gravel as she walks over.

She knocks on the door, loud and demanding, the Airstream shaking with it.

When there is no answer, or even the indication that there is movement inside, Isobel pulls on the handle, and isn’t entirely surprised to find the door unlocked.

She opens the door and walks in, frowning when she sees that Michael isn’t inside.

She searches everywhere, even pulling the shower curtain aside to make sure that he’s not hiding behind it, and rolls her eyes when she finds his phone set on top of the desk.

She drops down on top of his bed, making a face at the state of it, and pulls her phone back out to keep herself busy while she waits for him to appear.

She only has to wait about five minutes before she hears another car driving up to the Airstream, but from the other side.

Isobel looks out of the small dirty window, and spies Michael at his workshop, a pair of headphones covering his ears.

Isobel is about to turn to head out there, when she sees the person getting out of the car, and sees that it's Alex Manes.

Of course.

Isobel kneels on the bed to get a closer look, and she wishes that she could prop open the window so that she could hear what they were saying without them noticing.

Alex walks over to Michael who hasn’t noticed him yet, holding a paper bag that looks like it came from the diner, and a cup holder with two coffees.

Instead of getting Michael’s attention, Alex just leans against one of the beams and just stares at him.

It takes Michael a full minute to realize that Alex is there, and Isobel stares incredulously at the look on his face. She’s never seen Michael smile like that before, wide and bright.

He looks so young when he does, it abruptly reminds Isobel that they are all barely twenty-two. Sometimes Max and Michael act like they're so much older than her.

Michael pulls his headphones down and reaches for Alex, who ducks out of his hold, giving him the paper bag and cup holder instead before he grabs his own coffee and wanders further into the workshop.

Michael sits down on the low stool, and sets his breakfast down at the table, not even bothering to clean his hands before he stuffs what looks like half of a breakfast sandwich into his mouth.

Isobel wrinkles her nose and ignores him to search for Alex. She finds the top of his head over on the other side of the workshop, where Michael keeps his tools.

Isobel doesn't know exactly what happens, only that she hears a muffled curse coming from Alex and then Michael is dropping his food and turning to Alex who walks closer to him, and into Isobel's view.

Isobel hisses at the blood dripping from his hand, and she can just barely make out the gash across the back of his hand.

She fully expects Michael to cover up Alex's wound and take him to the hospital, but he doesn't do that.

He just wipes his hands and mouth with a napkin and then wraps his fingers around Alex's wrist when he gets close enough.

Michael tugs Alex closer so that he doesn't have to get up to his feet, and Alex goes along willingly, something fond in his gaze, even though the gash on his hand looks like it hurts.

Isobel watches incredulously as Michael says something and then grins, big and cheesy at Alex, who rolls his eyes, but doesn't pull away as Michael lifts his bloody hand to his face, pressing a kiss across the back of his hand.

Isobel realizes what's happening the exact moment that Alex pulls his hand away and then reaches forward and wipes his hand against Michael's shirt.

She keeps her eyes on him as he moves backwards, and sees that he's no longer bleeding.

Holy shit, Isobel thinks. Alex is Michael's soulmate.

She drops back on her heels and blinks her eyes rapidly, trying to figure out how the hell she missed this.

It wasn't just that Michael had managed to keep it a secret, but Max had been so sure that they wouldn't have soulmates since they were aliens.

And Michael had never said anything to the contrary.

She darts her eyes back outside and wrinkles her nose when she sees that Michael has taken his shirt off, and Alex has Michael pressed against the workbench.

She stares for a second, at the bright smile that crosses Michael's mouth when Alex pulls back a little.

Alex kisses Michael again, and Isobel decides to leave while they're too busy to actually pay attention, before they decide to make their way back into the Airstream.

She gets back into her car, and sends Michael a quick message so that he knows she'd been by, even if he won't get the message until later.

She turns the car on and drives off, stopping at the entrance to make sure that there were no incoming cars, and her eyes flicker up to the rearview mirror and she spots them making their way into the Airstream though Alex does impede their progress by pushing Michael against the door and kissing him again.

Isobel rolls her eyes and pulls out into the road.

**three.**

Greg is just putting his bag of toiletries into the duffel bag he's taking when there is a rapid flurry of knocking on his door.

He doesn't have to think too hard about who it could be.

If he's being honest with himself, he has been waiting for Michael to show up at his doorstep.

He's already made the rounds with everyone else, but Greg knows something that the others don't.

He opens the door, and there stands Michael Guerin, looking like he hasn't had a good night's sleep in weeks. There is a split across his bottom lip, held close by a butterfly stitch, and Greg briefly wonders how long he's had it.

"Look, I know that I might be just a stranger to you, but I  _ know _ that there is something wrong with Alex," Michael starts to speak before Greg can say anything, sounding adamant.

“It might be too late to actually help with the worst of it,” he continues, sounding matter of fact, and looking at Greg like it’s all his fault. “But he shouldn’t have to suffer anymore.”

“I agree,” Greg says before Michael can keep talking, obviously taking the air out of his sails, as he turns around, leaving the door open, and goes to get his duffel bag.

He can hear Michael walking inside of the house, closing the door behind himself.

"So you're gonna tell me where Alex is?" Michael asks, more like demands as he follows Greg to his room.

Greg pulls a folder out from the outside pocket of his duffel throwing the back over his shoulder and handing the folder over to Michael.

“I’ll do you one better,” he says, and then walks past him to grab his car keys.

Michael reaches out and stops him before he can go further, and he’s not even looking inside of the folder. He’s looking at Greg with an exasperated expression.

“Can’t you Manes men  _ ever _ just answer a simple question?” he asks rhetorically.

Greg just smirks, and Michael rolls his eyes and shakes the folder at him.

“It’s our flight plan,” he says. “Figured you might want to hold on to it. My guy hasn’t been flying long, but he’ll get us where we need to go.”

Michael gives him a confused look, opening the folder.

“It would’ve been too difficult to get you a passport,” Greg says, and then turns to keep walking to the door, getting his keys on the way.

“You better hurry up,” Greg calls out as he walks out of the door. “We’re already late.”

It’s not until they’re pulling out of Greg’s driveway that Michael speaks up again, slowly like he doesn’t know what words to use, “So you know.”

Greg knows exactly what he’s talking about, but he darts a look at him and then says, “I happen to know a lot of things.”

Michael gives him a full body eyeroll, something he obviously learned to do from Alex, "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Greg decides to take pity on him, “I do. And yes, I know. But not because Alex told me or anything, if that’s the problem.”

Michael is giving him an unreadable look when Greg darts his eyes back over to him.

“It’s not like Alex doesn’t try really hard to keep you a secret,” he continues. “I noticed because I pay attention to things that the rest of my family would rather ignore. God help you if dad decides to pay closer attention.”

Greg sees him nod out of the corner of his eye.

He doesn’t talk for the rest of the car ride, barely says anything when they load the plane and take off. Greg falls asleep sometime after take off and when he blinks his eyes open right as the pilot is saying that they’ll be making their descent soon, it’s to see Michael staring out of one of the small windows, a pensive look on his face.

He keeps up the silent act all the way until they get right outside of the patient room that Alex is in.

The nurse warns them that only one person at a time is allowed, and Michael beats him to the punch.

“I think you should go in first and let him know that I’m here,” he doesn’t look away from the closed door which is the only thing that separates them from Alex. “He told me that he didn’t want me to come, so someone should prepare him.”

Greg doesn’t roll his eyes, but it’s a near thing. Instead he just nods his head, and the nurse lets him into the room, “You have fifteen minutes.”

Greg nods his head again and walks into the room.

The room is dark, and there is the beeping sound of the heart monitor, and the strained sound of Alex’s shallow breaths, and it takes him a few seconds to actually focus on Alex but once he does, he barely resists the urge to walk back out of the room and demand that Michael do something about it.

Greg steps closer, and looks over the equipment they’ve got him hooked on. 

They’ve got multiple IVs connected to multiple bags, machines monitoring his breathing, and replenishing his blood, and even a type of sleeve wrapped tightly right above his right knee, that connects to another machine which seems to be monitoring the biggest wound, making sure that he doesn’t get an infection.

Greg thinks that the doctors have been doing a great job keeping Alex alive, but he can also tell that they really don’t have a lot of time left.

Alex looks too pale and his breathing is too rapid and shaky, and there is a still bleeding cut on his forehead, right on the edge of his hairline, and the gauze taped over it is bright red with blood, a drop slides down the side of Alex’s face as Greg watches.

Greg stops moving when Alex breathes in sharply, and then groans, like he needs to retake his medication again.

His eyes flutter open and shut and open and shut, but he doesn’t actually blink them fully open.

Greg stares at his baby brother for a couple more seconds, and then decides that enough is enough.

He walks out of the room to find Michael sitting down in one of the waiting chairs across the hall, bent over, his head bowed low, elbows resting on his knees, fingers overlapping his ears, several dirty bandages peeling from multiple fingers, muttering under his breath.

If Greg didn’t know any better, he’d say that Michael was praying.

He looks up when Greg lets the door close behind him, a startled wide eyed look on his face. “You still have five hundred and sixty two seconds.”

Greg shakes his head, “He’s unconscious and there is an IV drip in his arm pumping morphine into his veins every couple of hours.”

Michael stands up as he speaks, and walks closer, staring at the door behind Greg like he’ll be able to see inside if he looks hard enough.

“You’re running out of time,” he says, and Michael’s gaze snaps right to him. “I’m not sure he’s going to last much longer. It’s a miracle that he hasn’t already-”

Michael cuts him off without a word, shuffling him over to the side roughly, but Greg ignores that mostly because he doesn’t hesitate to walk inside of the room.

Greg turns and moves forward to stop the door from closing with a slam.

He looks inside to see Michael standing too still in the middle of the room, hands clenched to fists, but to his credit, he starts to move again without prompting, crossing the space rapidly, and lifting his hands.

They hover for a few seconds above Alex, and Greg wonders how exactly he’s going to do this, but he doesn’t have to wonder long.

Michael moves again, brushing fingers gently along Alex’s face.

Greg can tell that the touch starts to work immediately because Alex stops fighting for every breath.

Michael moves his hands from Alex’s face down to his leg, and Greg can tell just from the look on his face that he had had no idea that the infection had gotten so bad that the doctors had no choice but to amputate his leg, since infection (and decay and death) was one thing that the soulmate bond could not heal.

Greg hears him breathe shakily, but he undoes the seal holding the sleeve wrapped above Alex’s knee, with quick deft movements.

He pulls it off carefully, and the machine makes a low beeping sound, which stops a few seconds later even though Michael didn’t turn it off.

Greg’s attention is hyper focused on the still bleeding stump. The doctors had done the best they could, but it was still messy and horrible, and Greg had to lift his hand to his mouth and take deep breaths to stop himself from gagging.

Michael, once again to his credit, doesn’t flinch or back away from what he uncovers. 

There is a sound that falls out of his mouth, almost like a sob, before he moves, bowing low and covering Greg’s view, as he puts his hands on Alex’s leg.

It takes a few seconds, but then he’s moving, gasping low and wet as he pulls away, turning away from Alex, and taking deep shuddering breaths.

He’s shaking enough that Greg is worried, and about to walk into the room to ask him if he needs anything, when there are raspy words coming from Alex’s bed.

“Guerin, is that you?”

Michael turns back around immediately, taking a few halting steps closer to the bed.

"I know you said you didn't want me to come," Michael breathes, as he moves closer. "But you have to know that that was bullshit. There was no way I wasn't coming here."

Greg can't exactly see the look on Alex's face, but he sees him lifting his hand to Michael's face.

He says something too low for Greg to hear, and then Michael leans down, but instead of kissing, he presses his forehead to Alex's.

The touch seems so intimate especially given the way they both breathe in deeply, that Greg feels like he's intruding.

He lets the door close quietly, and then turns around pulling his phone out of his pocket and sitting down on one of the waiting chairs, settling in to wait.

**four.**

“What if it had been Alex Manes?” Max snaps, throwing the question in Michael’s face, wanting to hurt him as much as he hurts in that moment, knowing that the two people that he loves most in the world, sent away the love of his life feels like he’d been burnt alive from the inside out.

Michael doesn’t buckle under the accusation, just gives Max a surprisingly quelling look, “Don’t bring Alex into this. It’s not the same, and you know it.”

“It’s exactly the same thing,” Max says, taking a step closer, trying to use his height to his advantage. “The only difference is that Alex  _ left _ and you  _ sent  _ Liz away.”

“She was going anyway!” Michael snaps, clenching his hands at his sides. “And don’t paint me this bullshit story about how you were going to go with her. Because you weren’t. You may pretend that you would’ve, and that we kept you here. But if you really wanted to, you could’ve followed her.”

Max expels a harsh breath, shaking his head, “That’s not what this is about.”

Michael rolls his eyes at that, turning away from Max.

“Don’t tell me that you wouldn’t be here demanding my head on a spike if I had asked Isobel to use her powers to push Alex into leaving,” Max tells him, trying to make him understand, but Michael just looks at him, something sad but also mad in his gaze.

“I wouldn’t be,” Michael answers, and keeps going when Max gives him an annoyed look.

“Okay, fine. Maybe at first,” Michael acquiesced. “But I would’ve accepted it eventually. I would’ve known that you wouldn’t have gotten involved if it wasn’t what was best for me. Can’t you see that that’s what we were trying to do.”

Max just shakes his head and turns around, dismissing him from his attention. Michael isn’t getting it, or he doesn’t want to get it, and Max has a million other things that he needs to worry about.

He starts for his door again, and Michael stops him one more time, stepping into his path, and pushing him back slightly with his shoulder when Max bumps into him.

“Just listen-”

“No,” Max says, firmly. “I’m through listening to any excuses you want to make right now. Liz could be my soulmate and you-”

“Not possible,” Michael says, adamant, cutting him off.

Max frowns at that. “How can you be so sure?”

“I did wonder back when you first healed her, but the handprint appeared and you were shot and didn’t need-”

Max shakes his head, cutting Michael off, and Michael looks apologetic, but he doesn’t look like he’s lying.

“Maybe the handprint would appear anyway,” Max counters. “We’re not human. Maybe the bond acts differently with us.”

“It doesn’t,” Michael stresses with conviction.

Max looks at him skeptically, “How would you even know?”

Michael just lifts his left hand up, waving it in Max’s face. Max grabs his hand, and Michael moves immediately, tugging his hand away. Max lets his fingers drag across the crisscross network of scars over the top of his hand, spreading down to his knuckles as he goes.

In theory, Max knows that the soulmate bond is more trouble than it’s worth.

It’s not an exact science to find your soulmate for one, but once you did, it didn’t matter how close or far they are, if there is no contact with the wound, you’ll never be able to heal.

Not every soulmate bond was the same, which is the only thing that was giving Max hope.

That maybe the bond was taking longer to take a hold because he wasn’t human.

Max finally looks up at Michael who is holding his hand to his chest like he’s afraid that Max is going to grab him again.

“Is that your way of letting me know that you’re ready to talk about your hand?”

Michael scoffs, “No. It’s my way of showing you that the bond works with us the same way it does for two humans. We don’t heal without contact, and if there is any delay, there is a higher chance of permanent damage.”

"So what are you trying to say? That  _ you _ have a soulmate?" Max asks in an incredulous, slightly hurt tone.

If Michael did have a soulmate then why didn’t he say something before now, and there is a small bitter part of him that wonders why out of the three of them, Michael is the one with a soulmate.

Michael gives a disbelieving scoff, shaking his head, and turning away from Max, not saying anything.

Max feels the knot in his stomach tighten, but he tries to hold on to the hope still simmering in his chest.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Max demands, still sounding skeptical.

“Because I knew you’d react just like this,” Michael snaps. “Demanding why I didn’t tell you before, and dropping hints that maybe I’m lying or out of my mind.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to think when you don’t ever talk about anything, not when it’s really important.”

“Because you know enough,” Michael says. “More than enough. You knew about Alex well enough to throw him in my face. Why is it so hard to believe that I might know more about this than you do?”

“You know more than I do about a lot of things,” Max concedes. “But when it comes to what’s happening between me and Liz, you don’t know anything. And it doesn’t matter what you think, I still believe that she might be my soulmate, and I’m going to tell her.”

Michael stares at him for a long moment before he just exhales roughly and shakes his head.

“Fine whatever,” he says, turning around. “Believe what you want, but don’t come crying to me when this blows up in your face.”

He stalks away anger in every step, and Max wonders exactly when Michael turned this around on him.

He just shakes his head and turns and heads into his house.

**five.**

“Stop the car,” Michael says, and it seems like Alex didn’t hear him, but from the way that Alex’s fingers go tighter around the steering wheel, Kyle thinks that he heard Michael just fine.

“Alex,” Michael says, sounding both tired and exasperated.

Alex just speeds up without saying anything, eyes focused on the road.

Michael sighs and Kyle’s eyes dart up to the rearview mirror in time to see him lifting his hand.

Kyle braces himself just in time as the car stops suddenly, almost like it hit a wall.

Alex just makes a rude sound with his mouth, and when Kyle looks at him it’s to see that he barely looks ruffled by the sudden stop, like this is something that happens to him all of the time.

Alex turns the car off with a rough exhale, putting it in park when a few seconds go by and Michael keeps the car in place, with obvious strain.

“What do you want that can’t wait until we get back to your place?” Alex asks, voice coming out softer than Kyle was expecting.

“Max’s place is not far from here,” Michael says, not looking at either of them, but at the phone in his hands. “Isobel’s been calling me. They’re over there.”

“Okay,” Alex says, and moves to start the car, but Michael speaks up again.

“I can walk it from here, thanks,” he says, and then moves towards the door. Alex locks the car immediately.

"Guerin-" he starts, but Michael just unlocks the door with a grunt, and Kyle focuses on his hand again, noticing for the first time that his knuckles are busted, the blood running sluggishly down his wrist.

Michael gets out of the car, and Alex stumbles out after him, practically forgetting to unbuckle his seatbelt.

"Maybe we should let him-" Kyle starts gently, but Alex just gets out of the car and runs after Michael.

"Guerin," he hears him call out, and Kyle fully expects Michael to just keep walking, but he stops immediately.

They're talking too low for Kyle to actually hear any words, but after a few seconds, Michael turns to Alex, who immediately grabs his hurt hand between both of his, and smooths his thumbs down the line of his busted knuckles.

Even from the distance, Kyle can see the way his skin knits back together, and the only thing left behind is the drying blood trail that stops at his wrist.

If Kyle is being honest with himself, Michael being Alex's soulmate, wasn't something that he was expecting, but it makes sense the more that he thinks about it.

He didn't even know that the aliens could have soulmates, let alone a human one.

Kyle watches them as Alex says something else that he only manages to catch the end of, "-am here, you know?"

Michael just nods his head and says something else, that makes Alex sigh, but he finally lets go of Michael's hand, taking a step back.

"Call me, for anything," Alex says as he takes another step back.

Michael once again just nods and then turns away, walking down towards the sidewalk on the road that will take him to Max's house.

Kyle would've known that Alex was hopelessly in love anyway, but the fact that he stands there until Michael is out of sight really hammers the nail in.

Alex turns around and his eyes catch Kyle's and he looks startled to find Kyle there like he'd forgotten all about him.

Kyle waits until he gets back in the car and starts driving before he opens his mouth.

"So, Guerin, huh?" He states, and isn't surprised to receive a vicious glare in response.

"I'm just curious," Kyle says lifting his hands in defense. "I didn't realize that aliens could have soulma-"

"I really don't want to talk about it," Alex says, interrupting him. "And even if I did. I wouldn't talk about it with you."

Kyle makes a noise of protest immediately, "That hurts. I thought we were bonding, and forming a special friendship-"

This time Kyle gets cut off by a loud guitar riff as Alex turns the radio on and cranks up the volume.

Kyle just shakes his head, a small smile curling the edges of his lips as he looks away from Alex, forgetting for just a second the horrible shadow of their fathers' legacy.

**six.**

The thing is that Maria never paid much attention to the cuts and bruises that Michael sported over the years.

They had known each other for a long time now, and while Maria was careful, she’d gotten hurt enough times to know that she still hadn’t met her soulmate, and Michael got into enough fights that Maria had just assumed that the cuts and bruises he perpetually sported were from other fights.

She should've known better than to assume, especially when it came to Michael Guerin who seemed like an open book, but was actually written in an unknown language that only a few people were able to understand. 

Maria had thought that she was one of them, breaking under the chink in his armor and squirming her way inside.

She had chased after him knowing that it might hurt Alex because the potential was too much for her to ignore, and when Michael had finally come to her, and apologized and told her all of the right things to make her feel like she was the only thing that mattered to him in the world, she knew that she had done the right thing.

Maria looks at her phone, at Alex's contact information on the screen. 

The last message she'd sent him had been weeks ago. When her mom had first disappeared, he had come to her house once he found out, and he hadn't asked for anything, just offered his help.

The screen goes black, and Maria shakes her head, sliding the phone back into her pocket, and turns decisively towards the backdoor, telling the head bartender, Sandra, that she's off on her break.

Maria opens the door, and walks out into the cool night air, wishing for a second that she had brought her jacket with her, but the Airstream was set up not too far away, looking warm and inviting with the lights on inside, the windows just a little bit foggy.

Maria rubs her bare arms, her bare stomach trembling, and she can already imagine how much warmer it's going to be tucked right beneath Michael's arm.

She walks a little bit faster, boots crunching against the gravel.

She walks around the big black pickup that had been blocking the front view of the Airstream and Michael's truck, and she hears Michael's voice.

She looks up to look for him, and stops walking like she lost control of her motor functions.

She finds Michael easily enough, illuminated by a lantern hanging from the side of his truck, sitting on the tailgate of his truck, a bottle of beer balanced on one side, half empty and he has another bottle clenched in his hands, which tells her that the other bottle is Alex's.

Alex who is standing in front of Michael, practically between his spread knees.

Alex who says, “It’s just a small favor, and then I’ll leave you alone.”

Michael doesn’t say anything, before he downs the rest of his beer and sets the bottle aside, “You know you don’t have to ask.”

Maria wishes that she were standing father away so that she wouldn’t be able to hear them, as it is she knows that if one of them turns in her direction they’d be able to see her, but she finds herself unable to move, body flashing hot and cold, forgetting completely about how cold she was as Alex gives Michael a look that speaks of a history that doesn’t seem to be in the past at all.

Michael reaches out and pushes Alex on the shoulder with just the tips of his fingers. Alex barely moves backwards, just sways in place slightly.

“Show me the damage,” Michael demands, and Alex begins to take his jacket off almost as soon as Michael had begun speaking, tossing it beside Michael.

He pulls his sweater over his head, and Michael is there to untangle it from his hand and toss it aside.

Alex turns around without a word, and Michael reaches forward, hissing low as he moves the strap of Alex’s undershirt to the side.

The light shines bright enough that Maria can see the discoloration of a bruise that almost takes up the left side of Alex’s upper back, spreading around to his shoulder, and disappearing down his shirt.

Michael doesn’t say anything as he presses his hand to Alex’s back, palm down against his skin.

Maria’s breath hitches when Alex’s skin clears up, spreading from Michael’s hand, and it’s almost like the same bruise spreads across her aching chest as she realizes what that means exactly.

Michael doesn’t let his touch linger, lifting his hand from Alex’s back, and handing him back his sweater when Alex turns back around to face him.

“Thanks,” Alex says, voice light, like the pain had been making him so stiff he couldn’t relax.

Michael shakes his head, reaching over to grab Alex’s beer, and he downs that too as Alex pulls his sweater back on, and reaches for his jacket.

“You don’t have to thank me for that.”

Alex just shrugs his jacket back on, and then ruffles a hand through his hair, looking away from Michael, but over to the opposite side of where Maria is standing.

He breathes in deeply, and then turns back to Michael, and his eyes drop down to his mouth, where Michael still has a split lip from catching Lindsay’s boyfriend’s fist with his face a few days ago.

“Don’t you know better by now than to block someone’s fist with your face?” Alex asks, managing to sound both like he’s disappointed in Michael and entirely too fond.

Michael doesn't say anything, but Alex reaches out to press his fingers on Micheal’s face, starting on his temple, where his hair falls into his face, walking his fingers down, touching the bruise across his cheek as well, before he drags his fingers down to Michael’s jaw and brushes his thumb across the split in his lip.

“There we go,” Alex says, voice deeper than before. “Good as new.”

They stare at each other, from way too close, and it’s almost like the entire night goes still around them. Maria is standing in plain view, and they have yet to notice her, focused so completely on each other that she doubts they’d notice if a bomb went off beside them.

Unlike Michael, Alex lingers, his thumb brushing across Michael’s lip, before his hand drops and he takes a step backwards, shoving one hand in his pocket as he waves.

“See you around, Guerin.”

Maria watches Michael stare at Alex as he turns and walks towards his car.

Alex starting his car startles her into motion.

She waits until the car is halfway down the path to the road before she moves, finding her anger building with every step, and she cradles it against her chest to keep her warm.

Michael doesn’t notice her until she’s almost at the truck, and he smiles, something almost too wide, showing too much teeth, like he’s trying too hard, and moves closer, immediately noticing that she’s under dressed for the cold night.

He tugs his jacket off and offers it to Maria, but she doesn’t take it, preferring to tighten her hold on herself as she looks at him.

“Were you ever going to tell me that Alex is your soulmate?”

To Michael’s credit, he doesn’t pretend not to know what Maria was talking about.

“Did Alex tell you?” he asks, sounding a mixture between resigned and annoyed, like he hadn’t just healed Alex’s bruised back not even five minutes ago.

“This is a public parking lot,” Maria reminds him none too gently. “I was standing right over there the whole time.”

She points towards the pickup behind her, and Michael’s face falls with the realization.

“I’m so sorry,” Michael breathes, but it’s superficial at best, since Maria has no idea if he even knows what he needs to apologize for.

“Why are you sorry?” She asks him, and his mouth closes with a snap. “Because you didn’t tell me the truth or because I found out this way? Were you even going to tell me at all? Or were you hoping that I would never notice?”

Michael doesn’t say anything, which really is all the answer that Maria needs. She scoffs, shaking her head and looks away from him.

She can see him step closer out of the corner of her eye, and she steps backwards accordingly, staying out of reach.

“What do you want me to say?” Michael asks, something pleading in his tone, which is the only reason that Maria looks back at him.

“It’s too late for you to say anything,” she tells him as honestly as she can. “It’s one thing that you’re Alex’s ex. It’s a whole other thing being his soulmate. That’s one thing I would never get in the middle of.”

“It’s not like that between us-” Michael starts, and Maria scoffs derisively, giving him an incredulous look.

“It’s not,” he insists. “Alex and I will always be tied together by this thing, but that doesn’t mean that my feelings for you aren’t real.”

Maria shakes her head, and takes another step away from Michael, “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this right now.”

“Maria-” he starts, but she cuts him off with a sharp look.

“I’m going to need some space, but I’m not going to make you pack up and leave during the middle of the night. You have until tomorrow-”

“Maria, just listen-” Michael tries again, and his eyes are pleading with her, but Maria feels like she’s quickly coming up on the end of her rope and the last person that she wants to cry in front of right now is him.

Which makes her chest ache, because not even an hour ago she would’ve said that he was the only person she’d want around when she was that vulnerable.

“Listen to what? How can I trust anything you say when you couldn’t tell me about Alex? For all I know you could be keeping something else a secret from me-”

She trails off as she sees the way his eyes flash with guilt, and he looks away from her, exhaling roughly and dragging one hand through his hair, and she notices the scars at the back of his hand, and it hits her all over again. All of the signs were right in front of her, and she just missed them. Or maybe, she just didn’t want to see them.

“So is this it?” Michael asks, looking back at her, eyes shining bright. 

Maria exhales roughly and shrugs a little, trembling a little as she feels the cold getting to her, “I told you that you were on a trial basis, and you failed. I’m not giving you the opportunity to hurt me again, Guerin.”

Michael just nods his head once, but he doesn’t say anything else.

Maria shakes her head and turns around, walking fast back to the bar.

She gets to the back door and opens it, shivering when she feels the warm air rushing past her. And even though she knows that she shouldn’t, she turns around to get one last look at him, and sees that Michael is nowhere to be seen.

She inhales shakily and turns back around, walking inside and letting the door close behind her with a slam.

**seven.**

Liz gets out of the car, and drops her keys and half of the contents inside of her purse.

She sighs and closes the door shut behind her before she bends down to pick everything back up, setting the bag of breakfast items she’d got from the diner before the early morning rush.

It’s only been a couple of days since they’d put Max into a medically induced coma to get used to his new heart without strain, and Isobel had practically frogmarched Liz to her car sometime late last night and had driven her to Max’s place before demanding that she get some sleep in an actual bed that Michael would be waiting for her to relieve him of his overnight vigil.

“He’ll be fine,” Isobel had said before Liz had gotten out of the car. “And if anything does happen, I promise we’ll handle it.”

Liz had taken a shower and gone to sleep for almost a full eight hours, waking up startled from a nightmare that she couldn’t fully remember once she was fully awake.

She manages to get everything back in her purse and zips it shut.

She’s moving to get to her feet when she hears the door squeaking open and shutting with a clank, followed by rapid footsteps and then another loud screech as the door is opened again, and the footsteps of someone running out.

“Alex, wait!” she hears Michael yell, and then the sound of footsteps stops.

Liz leaves the food where it is, and places her hands on the ground for balance as she peeks around the front of her car, and spots Alex standing facing the stone steps that will lead him to the parking lot and Michael standing a few feet behind him.

Alex’s eyes are shut tightly, and he has one hand clenched at his side, and he looks like he’s steeling himself for a fight.

Michael’s face on the other hand looks broken open in a way that Liz has never seen before, and she’d been there when he saw Max’s dead body for the first time, and when they’d thought that there was no way to save him during his surgery, and even afterwards, once they’d gotten him back here and into a stable position.

“Alex,” Michael says again, and steps closer. “Just let me help.”

Alex grimaces, pain flashing across his face before he turns back to face Michael.

“What for?” Alex asks, voice tightly wound and harsh in the early morning light. “So that someone can see you do it, and you can accuse me of purposely hurting myself to put a damper on your new relationship?”

“Alex,” Michael says, voice cracking. “That’s not what I-”

“You’ve always been honest with me, Guerin,” Alex says, interrupting him. “Don’t start lying to me now.”

Michael exhales roughly, and Liz can see him pacing a little in place.

Alex looks like he’s about five seconds away from turning around and just leaving Michael there, when Michael stops moving, and speaks up.

“You’re hurt,” he says like he can feel the pain that Alex is going through. “And I can help, so please, just-I know you’re mad at me, but I just want-”

He cuts himself off frustrated, and Alex stands still, looking tense, before he relaxes his shoulders a little bit.

“It’s just a scratch,” he says, voice softer around the edges, lifting his right arm up, and Liz can see the white gauze, wrapped around his wrist. “I’ve had worse and survived for months with no contact. I’ll be fine.”

Liz gasps as she suddenly understands what’s going on  _ and _ gets a clarification for the text message Maria had sent her a few nights ago asking if she had known that Michael had a soulmate.

She had been planning to talk to him about it, but other things kept getting in the way.

She can’t see Alex’s face, but she can see from the mulish look on his face, that Michael isn’t going to let this go.

“How would you feel if it was me?” Michael says, and Alex deflates entirely as he breathes out.

He looks at Michael for a long second, before he lifts his arm in Michael’s direction.

Michael just grabs his hand, pulling it closer to himself, not even bothering to look triumphant, and he pushes the sleeve of Alex’s uniform up to his elbows, and then he’s unwrapping the gauze.

Liz can see how tightly wound Alex has it, and how much gauze he’d used for what turns out to be more of a gash than a scratch, butterfly stitches holding the wound close, allowing the blood to coagulate, but she knows that any amount of force on his arm would cause it to split open and start to bleed.

Michael breathes out, almost annoyed, but he doesn’t say anything as he passes his fingers down the length of the gash.

Liz has always been fascinated by the way the soulmate bond works, how it heals completely when done in time. Rosa had always indulged her curiosity, letting her test out different methods, from just tapping one finger along a small paper cut to pressing her lips to Liz’s skinned knee.

After Rosa had died, her wounds had taken longer to heal than those unlucky (or lucky) enough not to have met their soulmate, but they still had healed. Even so, Liz had felt like there was a hole right in the middle of her chest, and it was a feeling that didn’t go away, not even when she had briefly thought that Max could be her new soulmate, after he’d healed her.

But it had turned out that he was just an alien, with healing powers.

Liz loves him, but the reason why she fought so hard to bring him back was because he died trying to give her back her soulmate, and he had managed to bring her back enough that their bond had slotted right back into place and Liz had been able to bring her back all of the way.

“Thanks,” she hears Alex say, and focuses her attention back on them.

Michael is looking at Alex like he wants to say something, but before he can, Alex is turning around.

She ducks down and flattens herself on the side of her car, but when Alex passes in front of her, he doesn’t look down, just straight ahead.

Liz sees the way that he flexes the fingers of his right hand, like getting rid of pins and needles.

She waits until he gets into his car and leaves and only then does she straighten up to her feet, grabbing the paper bag of breakfast foods.

She looks over to the door to see that Michael is still standing right by the stairs.

She waves at him sheepishly when his eyes jump to her at her movements, and he just rolls his eyes a little, turning towards the door.

Liz hurries up the steps, and Michael waits for her holding the door open.

She smiles at him in thanks, and they both walk in silence to the room that Max is in.

Michael walks straight to where his cowboy hat is set, and one brief look shows her that his keys and phone are perched on the brim.

She drops her purse on the low table they’ve been using and shakes the bag of food at him, “I brought breakfast.”

Michael turns to look at her, and for a second it looks like he’s going to say no, but then he just nods his head, and drops down on one of the fold out chairs that squeaks in protest.

Liz sits down opposite from him, and she pulls out everything from the bag. The only thing she didn’t have was coffee, since she drank hers on the drive, but she knew there was a machine in the lab if she wanted more.

Michael grabs one of the breakfast sandwiches and unwraps it, stuffing about half of it in his mouth.

Liz wrinkles her nose in disgust, but she doesn’t look away from him, feeling too curious for her own good, and she knows that Michael can read it all over her face.

He swallows, and looks around before moving his fingers in a come here gesture, and catching a full water bottle in his hand.

Liz continues to stare at him as he takes a few sips of water, and then he sets the bottle down with a sigh.

“Just hurry up and ask what you want to ask, and stop looking at me like that,” he says, taking a smaller bite from the sandwich and raising his eyebrows at her expectantly.

Liz stares at him for a long moment and she wants to ask him why he doesn't talk about it, why  _ they _ don't talk about it since Alex was her friend too and he hadn't said anything, but something tells her that he's not ready to answer that question yet.

"So the bond works the same for aliens as it does with humans?"

Michael nods his head once, and gives her a look as he swallows his mouthful of food, “Is this your way of asking if Max could still be your soulmate, because sorry to break it to you, but-”

Liz lifts her hand in the air, and shakes her head, “No. I know he’s not. Rosa is, which you already know.”

Michael just shrugs and stuffs the rest of the sandwich into his mouth.

Liz stares at him for a second longer, and Michael just sighs and grabs another sandwich, along with one of the bags of tater tots.

“Why didn’t you tell Maria?” she asks before she can stop herself.

Michael drops the food down in front of him, and leans back in his chair, tilting his head at her, “Is this you asking for yourself or for Maria?”

Liz shakes her head, “I doubt she’s going to want to talk to me about anything any time soon.”

Michael scoffs a little, and leans forward again.

“I didn’t tell her because I already knew that the end result would be this,” he says, shrugging when she glares at him a little.

“That’s an asshole move,” she points out.

Michael gives her a sardonic smile, “I never said I wasn’t an asshole.”

Liz gives him a look, but Michael just shakes his head, getting to his feet and abandoning the rest of his breakfast, “Listen Ortecho, I’m not perfect. I wanted to be good for someone, and I wanted that someone to be Maria because she needed me, and I knew that if she knew everything about me and Alex she would’ve never given me the time of day. So yeah, I didn’t tell her, and no, I wasn’t planning on telling her. Not about Alex. And I know that makes me an asshole of the worst degree, but it doesn’t matter anyway, not anymore. Everyone leaves me, except for the one lying down in a coma right now, so please let me know if anything changes, I’m going home to sleep.”

Liz doesn’t stop him from leaving this time.

**eight.**

Alex had offered her a place to stay if she wanted some peace and quiet, so she didn’t feel too bad about taking him up on it even though it had been the middle of the night.

It had been that same morning, well afternoon when she had been barely awake sitting on top of the counter in Alex’s kitchen with a huge mug of coffee, eyeing Alex who was staring at his reflection in the microwave, messing with his hair.

He looked dressed up, like he was going out and looking to impress. Rosa approved of the leather jacket, and the bracelets wrapped around his wrists, it all looked very reminiscent of the Alex she remembered.

“Hot date?” she asks him when he fidgets with the collar of his jacket.

Alex throws her a side glare, but doesn’t say anything else.

At that moment someone knocks really loudly on the door, before opening it without waiting for an invitation.

Alex sighs, but he doesn’t look surprised or alarmed, only vaguely annoyed.

He walks out of the kitchen and into the hall to intercept the intruder, and Rosa almost drops her coffee mug when he talks.

“What are you doing here, Guerin?”

Rosa sets her mug down on the counter, and slides down to the floor, socked feet barely making any noise as she tiptoes to the entrance of the kitchen and peeks out into the hallway.

Alex has her back turned to her, and he’s standing in a way that blocks his visitor mostly from view, but Rosa would recognize that cowboy hat anywhere.

“Just wanted to see how you’re holding up,” Michael says, clearing his throat.

“I’m fine,” Alex says, moving to cross his arms across his chest. “You took care of the wound, and even drove me home-”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Michael cuts him off, moving closer. “Maria told me what happened, and I just wanted to make sure-”

“I’m fine,” Alex says again, stressing the words and talking over Michael. “You don’t have to worry about me. Worry about your girlfriend.”

Michael makes a small scoffing sound, while Rosa’s eyes widen dramatically, since she’s talked to Maria, and she seemed pretty adamant that she and Michael weren’t meant to be. She didn’t tell Rosa why, but Rosa could tell that she was serious.

“Maria is not my girlfriend,” Michael says, stressing the words carefully, like he really needs Alex to understand him. “She told me she wanted to talk. So I dropped you off first and then I took her home, and we talked, and that’s it. She was scared and didn’t want to be alone so I called Liz. And then I went home.”

Rosa can read between the lines as easily as Alex can, and she bites down on her lip thinking that maybe she should call Maria to make sure that she was actually okay.

“Why are you really here, Guerin?” Alex asks after a few seconds of silence where Rosa thinks about going back to her coffee since nothing interesting was going to happen.

“Maria asked me for help to figure out who exactly kidnapped her mother and why, and I’ve exhausted all my leads, and need to get into some files that might be restricted.”

Rosa can’t see Alex’s face, but he lets his hands fall to his sides, “And you want to use my cryptology software?”

Michael doesn’t respond, but Rosa can almost see the smile on his face.

Alex shakes his head a little, but then turns and walks towards the entrance that leads into the living room. 

“You know where everything is and the password is still the same,” she can hear Alex say faintly, and she wishes there was a way to get closer to where they are without revealing that she’d been eavesdropping, even though it wasn’t like Alex had been trying to keep anything a secret.

“You’re not going to help?” Michael asks, sounding confused and disappointed.

“No, I’ve got a date,” Alex says simply, and Rosa can hear him walking, and she moves back to the counter, but Alex walks past the kitchen, probably heading to his room, and Michael is hot on his heels.

“A date?” Michael asks, voice thick with tension. “With who?”

“You don’t get to do that,” Alex says, voice quiet and simmering with anger. “Not when you told me to my face that you didn’t want to be with me, and that you liked someone else, and were even in a relationship with them until it blew up in your face because of something  _ you _ kept a secret.”

Rosa peeks her head around the corner, and she can’t see Alex, but she can see Michael, and he looks equal parts hurt and stubborn.

“It’s one date,” Alex says when Michael doesn’t say anything. “Not a marriage proposal. If it makes you feel any better, you know the guy.”

Michael gives Alex a confused and suspicious look, and Alex sighs.

“It’s Forrest,” he says, and Michael’s face clears up, but in its place is a truly impressive disgusted sneer.

“You mean Nazi Guy?” he says, and Alex must nod or something because he continues with. “But he’s a Long!”

Alex snorts, “That didn’t bother you when you were sharing beers with him, and telling me all about how he was a nice guy.”

Michael just gives Alex a look that clearly says he doesn’t like what’s going on, but he’s not going to say anything else about it.

Alex reaches out and pats him on the shoulder, before he walks past him, and catches Rosa at the entrance of the kitchen.

Rosa just grins, and Alex rolls his eyes, “I’ll be back later. Make sure you lock the door once Guerin leaves.”

Rosa watches him as he leaves the house, patting his pockets for his phone and wallet, and then grabbing his keys and letting the door slam behind him.

Rosa looks over to Michael who is staring at the closed door, something sad in his face, but it doesn’t stop Rosa from smirking wider, when he turns to face her.

“So you and Alex, huh?” she says. “I thought you were dating Maria?”

Michael stares at her for a long moment before he shakes his head.

“Nope,” he says as he walks down the hall and into the living room, more as a way to close the topic than an actual answer.

Rosa just goes back to the counter and her mug of coffee.

If Rosa thought that it would be the last time that she saw Michael, she was mistaken.

She spends almost a week sleeping in Alex’s guestroom, and Michael comes over every single day, using some inane excuse that Rosa knows is just an excuse, but Alex lets him in every single time.

He doesn’t mention Forrest or how their date went, even though he had been gone most of the day and Rosa hadn’t seen him until the morning after since she’d gone to sleep before he’d gotten home, but she could tell that something had happened.

Something that was making Alex act more quiet and introspective than usual.

She didn’t understand exactly what was the problem between Michael and Alex when it seemed like they were both crazy about each other, and yet also completely unaware about how the other one felt.

It took her five days to realize that knowing about the alien secret wasn’t the only reason that Maria had also been avoiding Alex.

She jogs into the house, cooling down after her run, and is heading towards the back so that she can stretch out in relative privacy when she spots Michael and Alex sitting in the living room.

Michael is sitting on the floor, tinkering with something on top of the coffee table, and Alex has his laptop balanced on his lap, typing fast and occasionally reaching out for his mug of coffee.

Rosa’s lips twitch into a smile when the mug is too far away from Alex’s fingers, and Michael absently waves his fingers and the mug scoots over until it hits Alex’s hand.

The scene is entirely too domestic, and Rosa is thinking about maybe asking Isobel to help her plot to get those two idiots on the same page, when Michael’s hand slips and he cuts one of his fingers on the jagged edge of one of the metal pieces, of whatever it is that he’s working on.

Alex hears Michael hiss, and looks over to him, and he leans forward, holding his hand out.

Michael, who had immediately taken the bandana he had wrapped around his wrist to staunch the bleeding looks at Alex a little apprehensively.

Alex gives him a soft, kind of sarcastic smile, “Like you said,” he says in a soft voice. “Our lives are tragic enough, there is no point to suffer just for the hell of it.”

Michael swallows hard and pulls the handkerchief away, setting his hand down in Alex’s.

Alex lifts his other hand up, and brushes his thumb across the small, but deep cut along the side of his index finger, and Rosa’s breathing hitches in her chest as the realization hits her.

Of course they’re not on the same page even though it’s clear how they feel about each other. It must suck to have your soulmate tell you that they didn’t want to be with you, and wanted to be with someone else, especially when that person was someone who was close to you as well.

Rosa’s heart had broken into a million pieces when Liz had offered to send her away after she had figured that Max could be saved, effectively choosing Max over her. She can only imagine how much worse it must’ve been for Alex.

When she ducks back around to look back at them, it’s to see that they’re back to how they were before, and she shakes her head and continues her way towards the back of the house, thinking that maybe it’s time to go back home.

**nine.**

"Hey," Forrest hears a familiar voice that pulls him out of the zone he found himself in.

He looks away from his notebook and blinks a few times before Alex Manes comes into focus.

He can't quite help the smile that crosses his face when he sees him. 

Even though their one and only date hadn't ended up where Forrest had been hoping, he liked Alex.

And he liked looking at Alex who was once again wearing that leather jacket, and his hair was more of a mess than usual, and all in all, he looked a little bit like he hadn't gotten much sleep in the last couple of days, but somehow he still managed to look like the hottest thing that Forrest has ever seen.

"Hey," he says back, smile widening when he's rewarded with a bright smile back at the greeting.

"Working on your book?" Alex asks as he slides closer, moving his steaming cup of coffee along with him, signaling with his eyebrows towards the notebook that he'd been writing in.

Forrest looks down at the notebook and shakes his head, "No, it's more for the poetry slam. I've been having a hard time getting the words out lately, and just need to write when inspiration strikes even if it's during the middle of breakfast."

He signals towards his cold breakfast and throws Alex a sideways grin when he makes a knowing sound at the back of his throat, "I know that feeling. I've been working on this song what feels like the last ten years, and I think-"

The door opens and the bell hanging above it makes a bright twinkling sound, and an even louder voice, cuts Alex off before he can finish speaking.

"See, I told you he'd be inside getting coffee, and maybe that cute guy's phone number."

Forrest turns towards the entrance to see Alien Guy, or well Michael, standing next to a tall, striking blonde.

He sees Alex turn back around to his coffee while Michael introduces him to his friend, an odd look on his face as he looks at the space between Forrest and Alex.

Forrest asks if they're together and he can't help the smile that crosses his face at their reaction.

The way that Michael acts, he should've known that he was the little brother. It makes even more sense now that he and Alex are friends, since they're both the youngest.

His thought process is halted when Alex yelps and moves backwards, shaking his hand.

The skin across the back of his hand is red and irritated and Forrest feels sorry for him, since he knows how hot the coffee is here.

He holds out a napkin towards Alex, but Alex turns to Michael wordlessly, holding his hand out, brow furrowed and lips pinched together.

Michael makes a low sound, probably meant to be soothing, and grabs Alex's hand immediately, brushing his thumb over the red spot as he lifts his hand to his lips and blows cool air across the skin.

A little bit unnecessarily, Forrest thinks faintly. Because the red mark is already disappearing, which can only mean one thing.

Michael is Alex's soulmate, and Forrest is hopelessly fucked.

Of course the first guy he actually really likes in a long time turns out to have a soulmate.

Forrest watches as Michael straightens up and looks at Alex, "All better?"

Alex smiles, something soft and small, but all the more intimate for it, and Forrest feels it like a stab to the chest.

"Yes, thank you," Alex says warmly, not moving or looking away from Michael, who is smiling back at Alex just as small and soft and intimate. 

Michael shakes his head, squeezing Alex's hand in his, "I've told you a million times. You don't have to thank me."

Alex rolls his eyes, but he looks entirely too fond, "And I've told  _ you _ a million times it's just common-"

He looks away from Michael then to Isobel, and then his eyes jump to Forrest and go wide, "-courtesy."

He pulls his hand out of Michael's hold and turns to grab his coffee again. He turns with the cup in hand and walks to the door, and then turns around and looks right at Forrest, "I'll call you, okay?"

Forrest doesn't say anything, and before he can think of anything to say, Alex is out of the door.

Michael ambles lazily after him, throwing him a mocking salute in goodbye, an insufferably smug look on his face as he goes.

Isobel is still standing there when Forrest looks away from where Michael is throwing an arm around Alex's shoulders as they go, and Alex does nothing to stop him.

"I would say hang in there, but that would only end in heartbreak for you," she tells him bluntly with a sharp toothed smile.

Forrest gives her an unimpressed look, "Thanks, but whatever is happening between me and Alex, is between me and Alex, and doesn't have anything to do with  _ that _ ."

He makes a gesture towards the door, signifying the soulmate reveal and she just smiles wider, patting him on the shoulder.

"It's cute that you think there is something going on between you and Alex when my brother has practically moved into his house," she says, smile going almost too sweet to be genuine.

Forrest feels another stab in his heart, but he just breathes in deep and turns away from her, picking his pencil back up.

He hears her laugh as she leaves, the bell above the door ringing almost too loud.

Forrest counts to five and then sneaks a look back outside to see Isobel getting into the backseat of Alex's SUV, and he can see Michael's curly hair pressed against the window of the driver's seat, like he's completely turned and talking to whoever is in the passenger's seat.

He keeps his eye on them as Michael moves and the car pulls away from the sidewalk, and makes a U-turn.

Forrest watches as the car goes, and he sees Isobel leaning between the two seats, her saying something to Alex who throws his head back in laughter, and sees Michael not looking at the road as he stares at Alex with besotted eyes.

Forrest looks back down at his notebook and just shakes his head, setting his pencil in the seam and closing the book before stuffing it back into his bag.

He leaves enough money to cover the bill and leaves the cafe suddenly needing to be anywhere else.

**ten.**

They were supposed to be safe.

His dad was dead, and Alex and Michael and everyone else that he cared about were all alive and safe, and relatively sound.

And sure, Alex was a little too jumpy walking by himself at night, and anyone who grabbed him by surprise tended to find themselves flipped on to their back on the ground, and Michael had started avoiding him after Alex sang the song he obviously had written for him, but they were alive.

Forrest had answered Alex’s call, when he finally did call him, but he’d been upfront about not wanting to get involved between two soulmates, and they had settled into an easy friendship, which had surprised Alex.

It had been one of those nights where Forrest had offered to drive him home after they’d ended up closing down the bar, just talking and barely drinking, and Alex had been tired, but he finds himself wide awake when Forrest pulls into his street and he spots Michael’s truck in the driveway.

Forrest snorts in amusement, and when Alex looks over to him, he’s shaking his head.

“What?” Alex asks defensively.

“Nothing,” he responds, darting a look at Alex before he pulls up right in front of his house, and puts the car in park, not turning it off. “It’s just really obvious that staying friends was the best idea. I don’t know if I could turn a blind eye to the way your entire face just lit up if we were dating.”

Alex just rolls his eyes, and moves to get out of the car. “Thanks for the ride. Text me once you get home.”

Forrest just waves him out of the car, and Alex gets out, closing the door behind him.

He looks up and spots Michael immediately, sitting down on the tailgate.

His eyes are on the car behind Alex, but Alex ignores that too as he walks up to him.

“Hello stranger,” he says as he gets close enough to catch Michael’s attention.

Michael’s eyes flash guiltily at him for a second, before he grins, bright and genuine, “Right back atcha.”

Alex just stares at him steadily, taking note of everything and coming up with the fact that Michael looks exhausted, like he hasn’t slept at all since the last time that Alex saw him.

He has questions that he wants answered, but they can wait until Michael has at least ten hours of sleep.

"Is there a particular reason why you're here?" Alex asks, taking another step closer and holding his hand out and smiling easily when Michael immediately puts his hand in Alex's.

He's got less bandages than usual, which means he hasn't been busy tinkering away in his workshop or even in the engine of a car.

Alex just unsticks the bandages and presses the tip of his finger across every tiny cut, the simple touch leaves behind warmth that tingles down his arm, and Alex is never sure if they're part of the soulmate bond or if it's just because it's Michael.

"That's not why I came here," Michael says, sounding amused.

Alex just raises an eyebrow at him and lets him go, holding out his hand for Michael's other hand.

Michael puts his other hand into Alex's without a fight.

"Then why are you here?" Alex asks, frowning at the too deep gash in the meat of Michael's palm and passing his thumb over it carefully.

"Would you believe me if I said that I just wanted to see you?" Michael asks, sounding tired and like he already knows the answer.

Alex just raises an eyebrow in answer as he lets go of Michael's hand.

"I'm tired," Michael says, exhaling roughly. "And I want to sleep somewhere warm and comfortable, and-"

"You're getting tired of Max, already?" Alex teases.

Michael just gives a tired laugh, "Yeah. He's been clingy lately."

Alex nods his head once, and then tips his head towards his front door, taking a step away from Michael.

Michael stands up, closing the tailgate with a slam and follows after him.

He hears Michael inhale deeply, lips parting like he's getting ready to say something, which is when he hears a rustling sound that very much doesn’t sound like the wind going through leaves, and he stops, looking around, hyper focused.

Michael bumps into him, his voice cutting out at the first syllable before he puts a hand on Alex’s shoulder.

“Wha-?” he starts to say, and they both see the man stepping out of the shadows by his front door and right into their path.

Alex barely hears anything, all he sees is the gun, and he thinks maybe, if Michael wasn’t with him, he’d be thinking more clearly, but as it is, his one singular thought is to get Michael as far away as possible from that gun.

He doesn’t think about the fact that Michael had been waiting for him, and if the gunman wanted him dead he would’ve probably killed him already, which meant that he was there for Alex. He barely thinks about anything else as he moves backwards, coming fully into contact with Michael and making them both stumble a few steps backwards.

Michael stops their progress and before Alex can say anything, he’s reaching out with one hand, and he makes a motion to the side and the gunman goes flying into the fence with a surprised grunt.

Alex grabs Michael’s hand and uses it to tug him in front of him so he can push him towards the door, Michael says something, but Alex doesn’t pay attention.

They get to the front door and Alex looks back in time to see the gunman getting to his feet and taking aim again.

It all almost happens in slow motion, but Alex thinks that’s mostly in his head.

The gunman shoots twice in quick succession, the sound of the gun too loud in the quiet night even with the silencer. Alex has gotten shot before, and he knows to brace for the impact, and he knows that the pain is sharp at first before it flashes hot and excruciating. He doesn’t even have time to close his eyes.

Only, instead of feeling the sharp pain, he feels Michael, heavy and warm as he collapses against him, grunting low and pained as he jerks in his arms.

Alex stares at him uncomprehending, eyes wide as they fall against the door and then go sliding down.

Alex can’t look away from his too bright eyes, and the way his lips are moving like he’s saying something.

Alex is shaking his head, and then Michael’s weight is off him and Alex suddenly feels cold, and when he looks up into the barrel of the gun, he goes completely still.

There is a perfect drop of silence, the only sound Alex can hear is his own ragged breaths in his ears, and then Michael yells.

“ _ Alex! _ ” and his voice sounds rough and in pain, but he sounds mostly terrified out of his fucking mind, and it’s that that snaps Alex out of it.

Alex moves, kicking at the gunman’s shin as hard as he can while he lifts his hands up and wraps them around his wrists, pushing the gun up as two more shots ring out.

He twists his hands, wrenching his arms to the side and kicking him again, and he goes down while Alex pulls the gun out of his slack grip and rolls to the side and out of reach.

He’s still on his back when the gunman makes it to his feet, jaw clenched, spewing vitriol and curses.

Alex doesn’t hesitate.

He empties the rest of the clip on his chest.

The gunman falls to the floor and Alex waits, breathing heavily, and only moves when the gunman remains completely still for a few seconds. He throws the gun to the side, not really caring where it lands, and crawls to Michael’s side.

He’s still breathing, ragged breaths that shake his entire chest, but his eyes are closed.

“Guerin,” Alex says, voice hoarse and almost too quiet.

Michael doesn’t open his eyes, but his fingers do twitch.

“Guerin,” he says again, a little bit louder, and Michael’s eyes flicker open as he turns his head to face him.

“Hey,” he whispers, and Alex sees a drop of blood sliding down his chin.

“I-I’m going to-to try to-” Alex says, stuttering a little, and feeling frustrated with himself.

“I know,” Michael says, and he turns his face away from Alex, eyes shutting tight, clenching his jaw like he’s trying to stop himself from screaming.

Alex clears his throat and nods his head to himself before he moves closer, hands coming up to Michael’s chest.

He rips his shirt open, the buttons of his flannel flying everywhere, and it’s a testament to how much pain he is in, that Michael doesn’t make a lewd comment about it.

There are no exit wounds on his chest, which means the bullets are still inside, and Alex swallows down a whimper and tries to remember any time he’s read about soulmates in combat, if there were any recounts on how the healing worked if the bullets didn’t go all the way through, and he’s drawing a blank.

“Fuck,” he says lowly, and Michael makes a low inquiring sound.

The one thing he does know however is that he’s going to have to turn Michael around because he needs contact with the actual wounds.

“I’m going to have to turn you around,” he says, and Michael just nods his head.

Alex doesn’t waste any time in doing what he said, and Michael helps him, grunting low when he lands on his chest, and he wraps his left hand loosely around Alex’s before he can get too far, and his head is turned so that he can look at him, but Alex’s gaze is caught by his hand, by the proof that Alex was too late to fully help the first time.

“You got this,” Michael says, and Alex’s gaze darts to his face and the half smile he’s sporting that falls from his face as he grimaces. “But you should hurry.”

Alex nods his head, and he knows that he’s not going to be able to take Michael’s shirt off properly, so he tugs it away from where it’s sticking to his back, and pokes his fingers through one of the bullet holes before he pulls hard and rips the shirt right down the middle.

He absently makes a note to buy Michael a new shirt, and swallows hard, swallowing down the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he sees the blood covering Michael’s back, all the way down to the waistband of his jeans, and still pouring out, now down his sides and on to the ground below him.

Alex has seen Michael bloody more times than he can count. He’s healed countless bruises and cuts. He knows what his blood smells like, what it feels like coating his hands, even what it tastes like, but still, he freezes completely, the horrifying thought of, what if it’s too late to undo the damage, running through his head, and he looks back at Michael’s hand, and finds himself thinking the worst.

“Alex,” Michael says in a low and quiet voice that sounds so faint that it’s barely heard, but Alex feels like he yelled it into his ear.

He jumps and looks at Michael’s face, pallid and sweaty, but his eyes are closed, and his face is pressed into the pavement, and Alex can see the dark mark of the blood spreading beneath him, and he can see his back expanding and shaking with every breath, and he knows that if he doesn’t try, he’s going to regret it.

Alex moves forward, hands in front of him, shaking so badly he almost can’t hold them straight.

He breathes in deeply, and forces his hands still before he sets them down on Michael’s back.

Michael shudders, and Alex can feel a slight tingle at the tips of his fingers, which makes something jump in the pit of his stomach as a small measure of relief pours through him because it’s working.

He keeps his eyes on Michael’s face, and finds the bullet holes by touch, fingers sliding over where his blood is thick and almost sweltering.

Alex flattens his hands over them, pressing his palms against the wounds, and the tingles drive up his arms in a flash, and it feels like something hooks deep into Alex’s stomach, making him sway forward a little bit.

The last time he felt something remotely similar was when he’d healed Michael’s hand, but it hadn’t been as strong.

Alex feels the tug in the blood in his veins and he can taste blood right at the back of his throat, and he thinks that maybe, healing takes more of a toll when the wound is very nearly mortal.

It takes at least three minutes for the wounds to fully close and for Alex to get an answer about the bullets as the metal is pressed against his palms, but Alex feels every second like an eternity, and the only reason that he doesn’t stop and call Kyle to beg him to help, is because Michael’s face isn’t as pale anymore, and there is more color on his cheeks, and he’s still sweaty, but it doesn’t look like he’s knocking on death’s door anymore.

Alex only pulls away when the tingling in his hands stops, and he lets the bullets fall to the floor, making small metal sounds as they roll.

There are two imperfect circle shaped scars on his back, one right below his left shoulder blade, the other one right along the curve of his spine in the middle of his back. Not perfect, but better than the alternative.

Alex falls back on his heels, and tries to convince himself that it would be a much better idea to get back up to his feet and convince Michael to get up as well, and deal with the fallout surrounding the dead body at his front door, instead of lying down next to Michael and falling asleep on the bloody concrete.

“‘Lex?” Michael says, voice hoarse, as he pushes himself up on all fours and then drops to sit down beside Alex, tipping over to lean his head on Alex’s shoulder. 

“Good job,” he says on a sigh.

Alex can’t resist the slightly deranged laughter that spills out of his mouth.

Michael just wordlessly, reaches out and grabs one of Alex’s hands in his, and Alex looks down at his hands, the laughter dying in his throat at the sight of the still wet blood coating them, and he wants to curl his fingers into fists but Michael doesn’t let him.

“Thank you,” Michael says a little reverently, fingers sliding across Alex’s palm, before he threads their fingers together. 

“Really thought there for a second that it was going to be too late no matter what you did,” he continues voice tinged with relief and slightly teasing, like he’s trying to get Alex to snap out of it.

Alex wants to say so many things, starting with Michael’s trademark,  _ you don’t have to thank me _ , and ending with,  _ why the hell would you expose yourself to a threat _ , but the words get caught painfully in the back of his throat, and his eyes start to water.

Alex opens his eyes wide, shaking his head a little and he pulls his hand away from Michael’s, turning his face away and trying to get himself under control.

He can’t be on the verge of falling to pieces, not when there are so many things that they have to do before Alex can lock himself in his room and fall apart with no witnesses.

“Hey,” Michael says, voice soft and kind, and Alex can feel him moving so that he’s facing Alex, one of his hands on Alex’s face, but Alex closes his eyes tightly, instead of looking at him, and to his horror, he can feel the tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes.

Michael makes a low sound which tells Alex that he can see the tears, which is even more horrifying.

Alex just shakes his head again, moving away from Michael's touch and blindly gets to his feet.

He’d been sitting on his heels for too long that his knees buckled, his right leg giving way with a too painful pinch, and he hisses in pain.

Michael is there, catching him before he falls back to the ground, but Alex tries to push him away, turning his head to the side and breathing out roughly.

“Alex,” Michael says, almost too gentle, and Alex shuts his eyes even tighter. “You know you don’t have to pretend with me. It’s safe to let go.”

Alex shakes his head.

“Alex,” Michael says his name again, this time a little exasperated, but it’s enough to snap Alex out of whatever the hell is happening to him.

He opens his eyes and glares at Michael a little.

Michael just smiles, and tries to pull Alex into his arms some more, probably into a hug, but that is the worst idea in the world.

He pulls away, this time too roughly, and slips out of Michael’s hands, holding out one hand in front of him to stop Michael from coming closer, and sagging back against one of the wooden beams holding up the awning.

“Alex,” Michael says once again, and this time he sounds hurt, and while Alex knows that it might be safe to fall apart in front of Michael, he’s having a hard time actually believing it.

“I can’t,” Alex says, dropping his hand, and Michael’s eyes are wide and hurt. “I can’t just do that. There are too many things that need to be taken care of before I even entertain the idea.”

The hurt seeps out of Michael’s eyes, and he looks at Alex like Alex isn’t making sense, like he has no idea what else needs to be taken care of.

“There is a dead body on the welcome mat I bought two weeks ago,” Alex starts, and Michael winces, eyes falling away from Alex and darting to the side, like he’d forgotten all about the gunman who was the reason why he’d been bleeding out on the floor. 

“The blood will seep into the cement and stain it permanently if we let it dry,” Alex keeps going and follows Michael’s gaze to the floor, where the too black stain looks so giant and unfathomable, that he feels weak in the knees again.

“And you,” he continues, and Michael’s gaze jumps back to him, and he stands there in the remains of his shirt, covered in blood, looking at Alex like he’s worried about him, like he wasn’t the one who had almost died. “You almost died.”

“Alex,” Michael says one more time.

“Stop saying my name like that,” Alex snaps, and before Michael can say anything else, Alex just talks over him. “Stop acting like you weren’t just bleeding out on the floor. Like you didn’t come here thinking it was safe and got shot. Like you didn’t almost die, and I almost let you because I was too scared that I would mess it up, that it wouldn’t work, that I hesitated. You were bleeding out and I hesitated.”

Michael crosses the space between them, and he grabs on to Alex’s arms, tugging him in sharply.

Alex’s head jerks backwards a little, and he looks at Michael with wide eyes.

“Alex,” he says, lips quirking up into a smile when Alex gives him a slightly exasperated look. 

“I’m okay,” he continues, and Alex opens his mouth to contradict him, but Michael just raises his eyebrows.

“I really am,” he says, fingers digging into Alex’s biceps as he shakes him a little. “You may have hesitated, but you did it.”

Alex gives him a skeptical look.

“You’re my soulmate,” Michael says simply, and Alex inhales sharply, feeling his heart jump in his chest. “I may have almost died, but I didn’t because you saved me. You saved me, Alex.”

Alex breathes out shakily and his chest shudders with him, relief sweeping through him chasing away the terror. 

Michael seems to realize that Alex isn’t about to fall to pieces in front of him, even with all of his coaxing, so he lets his hands drop to his sides, and looks back over to the body.

“You’re right, though,” he says. “There are things to do. Starting with you going inside to take a shower.”

Alex shakes his head, scoffing, “What? No. I have to-”

“I’ll take care of everything,” Michael assures him. “You’d need my help anyway.”

Alex doesn’t deny that, “Did you forget about the part where you almost died?”

Michael gives him a look, raising one eyebrow, “How did you feel after I healed you in the hospital?”

Alex licks his lips swallowing hard, “Great. Better than I had for days.”

“That’s how I feel right now,” Michael says. “Like I took a shot of espresso and injected it directly into my veins. But I know that I was exhausted after healing you, and you practically forced me into your bed to take a nap.”

Alex tries very hard not to blush, especially remembering how Greg had been there to catch him staring at Michael as he slept.

“I’m willing to bet that you feel just as tired, if not more, so please,” he says, eyes too wide, as he tries to look as earnest as possible. “Just go take a shower. I’ll let you know once I’m done out here.”

Alex stares at him for a too long moment before he nods his head.

Michael breathes out, almost like he didn’t believe that Alex would do what he said, and then practically shoos him inside of the house, closing the door gently behind him.

-

Alex doesn’t know how long he sits in the bathtub, the shower on and falling over him, the steam of the too hot water filling up the small enclosed space and spilling out from above.

But it’s long enough that the water goes cold, but he’s too drained to actually realize it.

It’s not until there is a soft touch on the back of his shoulder, pushing him forward a little that he snaps out of it, jolting and turning to face Michael, who is crouched right where he’d pulled the curtain open.

He’s shirtless, and there is a small towel wrapped around his neck, catching the droplets sliding down from his wet hair that is showing obvious signs of being combed.

“I knocked on the door, but you weren’t answering,” Michael says, a sheepish look on his face, his eyes on Alex’s face, and only on his face.

Alex parts his lips to speak, but instead shudders, teeth chattering as he abruptly realizes how cold he is, goosebumps spreading across his shoulders.

Michael wordlessly lifts one hand and turns the shower off while reaching behind himself with his other hand.

He doesn’t say anything as he helps Alex out of the shower, and helps him get dry enough to slip on the t-shirt and sweatpants that Michael had obviously brought with him since Alex had just made a beeline to the bathroom and hadn’t even thought that far ahead to get clothes to change into.

Alex doesn't say anything, content to watch Michael's expression as he helps Alex. There is something so sweet and tender in his face that it makes Alex's chest ache. It reminds him of the way that he looked at Alex, back before everything, when the one thing that Alex had been sure about in his entire life was how Michael felt about him.

He lets Michael help him to his room without saying anything, lost in thoughts of what could've been, and maybe what still could be.

Alex isn't entirely an idiot. He knows that Michael loved him, and it took a while to realize that it was still true, but love was never the issue, and Alex doesn't know if he could put his heart on the line again, just to have it rejected.

Alex only realizes that they're in his room when Michael gently lowers him down onto the bed, the sheets smoothly sliding out of the way.

Alex had been tired before but it's nothing to the way that the drowsy, dizziness of sleep sweeps through him the second that he's sitting on top of his bed.

He blinks sleepily at Michael who is standing in front of him wearing a pair of plaid sleep pants that are worn to holes at the knees, but look really soft, even though Alex is sure that Michael doesn’t plan to sleep in them.

Alex closes his eyes as he feels heat flash across his face, and he lets himself tip over on to his pillow, lifting his legs on the bed, and he can’t help the smile on his face when he feels the sheets sliding over him.

He exhales and blinks his eyes open, and Michael is still watching him with that open and tender expression, and Alex barely hears him saying goodnight as he moves back towards the door.

He just lifts a hand in Michael’s direction, and says, “Stay.”

Michael stops moving and he looks at Alex with a furrowed brow, “Are you sure?”

Alex just nods into his pillow, eyes fluttering close, “Please.”

He doesn’t really see Michael moving to get on the bed, but he hears him moving to the other side of the bed, bare feet dragging across the carpet at the foot of his bed.

Alex hears him dropping the towel to the floor, and he would say something about that if he didn't feel so tired.

He just turns to the side, facing Michael, and opens his eyes when he feels the bed dipping down.

Michael pulls the sheet up and slides underneath it, still wearing the pajama bottoms, which Alex is grateful for, but also a tiny bit disappointed with.

He waits until Michael settles himself on his back before he slides closer, not really caring when Michael goes entirely still. He just grabs Michael's hand and ducks underneath his arm, settling his head on top of Michael's chest.

"Is this okay?" He asks, words quiet and uncharacteristically shy.

Michael inhales deeply and finally relaxes, using his arm to pull Alex even closer, until their legs are entwined and Alex wraps one arm around his waist.

He leans his head on top of Alex's and Alex's eyes fall shut.

"It's more than okay," he breathes into Alex's hair, arm tightening around his shoulders, fingers wrapping around his arm around his waist.

Alex just pushes the side of his face into Michael's chest, breathing out, and falls asleep listening to the beat of his heart.

**eleven.**

Walt knows that he has a soft spot for Michael that means he lets him get away with things during working hours that he'd otherwise wouldn't, which is why it doesn't surprise him when he's walking over to his workshop to see what's taking so long with Mrs. Marvin's Volkswagen and sees him just standing in front of the car, one hand wrapped loosely around a wrench, but he's not looking anywhere near the engine.

Walt follows his dazed gaze over to the front of the Airstream where he sees Alex Manes, lying back on a lounge chair, that looks like it was someone’s old pool set, shirtless and obviously tanning in the bright sunlight, a pair of sunglasses slipped over his face.

Walt turns back to Michael and snorts and shakes his head, making to walk closer, when he hears a creak as though Alex oved in his seat, probably to get more comfortable and then Michael knocks into the hood strut, pushing it out of place and the hood falls, shutting with a loud clang.

Michael moves fast, but Walt can tell that he pinched the tips of his fingers as he hisses and waves his hand out like that will get rid of the stinging.

He moves towards the Airstream but instead of walking to the door, Michael walks right up to Alex, who pushes his sunglasses up to the top of his head and tilts his head back to look up at Michael.

"I got hurt and it's all your fault," Michael says, sounding serious. "You should kiss it better."

He grins a little lasciviously, but Alex just raises an eyebrow back. "Oh really?"

Michael nods his head, and he drops down to sit sideways on Alex's lap, and Alex accommodates him easily, grabbing Michael's hurt hand before it hits him in the face.

"Yes," Michael confirms leaning in. "It is your job after all."

Alex rolls his eyes, but he does bring Michael's hand up to his face and presses a kiss to each individual fingertip, and even from where he's standing, Walt can see how Michael's shoulders slump a little and his fingers go limp, like he'd been in pain but no longer was.

Walt tilts his head and stares at them with new eyes, wondering how long Michael's known about his soulmate, but given the up and down nature of their relationship, Walt guessed it had to have been a while.

He hadn't known if he, being what he was, would have had a soulmate, and he had thought not, but he's glad to be proved wrong.

At least there was someone else who could look out for Michael. Walt knew that Max Evans kept an eye on him as well, but he also knew that his priority was Isobel.

Michael deserved someone who would put him first above everything else, and it may have taken him a while, but he thinks that Alex finally got there.

"There we go," Alex says as he presses one last kiss to Michael's pinky. "All better now."

Michael shakes his head like Alex had asked him a question, "Nope, you missed a spot."

Alex barely has the chance to give him a questioning look before Michael is leaning down to kiss him.

Walt is the one who rolls his eyes this time, and he walks closer determined to make his presence known before he sees something that he can't unseen.

As he moves closer, he can see Michael's hands running across Alex's shoulders and down his arms and up again. 

"You're so hot," Michael says in a low wondering tone.

Alex chuckles, hands on Michael's back, "Thank you."

Michael makes a scoffing sound, "Not like that. Well, yeah, like that."

His hands slide down and he squeezes Alex's biceps as he continues to speak, breathless, "But also, you're so warm."

He drops his face down to Alex's neck and nuzzles him. 

"I guess I should be lucky you're not trying to make out with me while I have a fever, anymore huh?" Alex asks, voice low and teasing.

Michael whines low in his throat as he lifts his head, "Stop kink shaming me."

Walt has heard enough for today. He clears his throat loudly and Michael actually makes a noise that sounds too much like a squeak before he's falling to the floor.

Alex looks at Walt, and he sends him a tight smile, before his glasses fall over his face.

He's holding himself too tense, and Walt isn't sure if it's because someone caught them in an intimate moment or of it's because he's wearing bathing shorts and doesn't have his prosthetic.

He just inclines his head and doesn't pay him too much unneeded attention as he looks at Michael who gets up to his feet and gives him a slightly sheepish look.

Walt gives him an unimpressed look back, "Get back to work. Mrs. Marvin will be here in an hour, and I'm not paying you to canoodle with your boyfriend."

He turns to head to the car, to see how much longer it's likely to take, and Michael follows after him protesting, "You barely pay me at all."

Walt shoots him an unamused look, " I let you keep that empty Airstream parked specifically in that spot without asking, so don't push your luck."

Michael laughs a little, and passes by him, getting to the car first and propping the hood up again. 

Walt can't help the smile that crosses his face as Michael turns to look back at Alex once more, and a soft look overtakes his face before he turns back to Walt and blushes at being caught.

Walt just shakes his head and thinks about how happy Ms. Nora would be to see how happy her son finally is.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! :D


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